


A Woman's Pleasure

by JasmineBaggins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasmineBaggins/pseuds/JasmineBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the porn battle, the prompt was Sansa/Sandor protection. Implications of Petyr/Sansa with slight dub con themes. Unbetad and a bit embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Woman's Pleasure

Before her wedding night Alayne’s father made sure she was instructed in a woman’s pleasure. He said it was her duty and her joy to know these things but when he made her _show_ him as he repeated the words, it was clear who he expected her to be thinking of in the dark. 

The girls had said that Harry was a good lover, but as usual, Alayne’s father knew better. He never hurt her, not really, but his idea of preparing her was so instrusive and quick, jabbing his fingers into her and the like. She prefered him to just get on with it.

Before, and sometimes during, she made circles on her secret spot and pretended she was with someone else. But not the man who had smiled when he told her how, seeming sure she would picture him forever in her private moments, no, not him, never him. 

She tried what her first husband had said and pictured Loras Tyrell, but by then Alayne's father had told her stories about that man and lovely as he was, she couldn’t believe he’d be any more attentive to her than her husband. The other men she’d known weren’t much better. There was a time when she’d had a prince she thought was beautiful, but now, even with him dead, she never wanted to think of those worm lips anywhere near hers. And her first husband himself? No. Try as she might, she couldn’t imagine his gargoyle face with anything less than revulsion. 

But then there was the Hound. When his face came to her, she did feel fear, but something else too. She didn’t know why she should. He'd been nothing to her. But night after night as she waited for Harry she thought of their almost kiss and it got her through. 

Things went on like that for a while, but after a year, when Harry the Heir didn’t have any heirs of his own, people were talking. He had two bastards already, after all. And yes, she had the Vale but one couldn’t help but wonder how much it would really hurt Harry if his barren young wife were to take a trip out the moon door. 

She wasn’t sure what inspiration had told her to take a trip to that Sept. A lifetime ago she would have prayed to Old Gods for help, but they’d never listened to her before and she was desperate. Then she got there and she saw his face, shroaded as it was but never enough to quite hide the burns, and she knew what she had to do. 

That night, she wet her fingers and made circles, thinking of what she would say to him. He looked like a holy man now. She might have to lie to get what she wanted. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do that, seeing as they both were in hiding, but as she closed her eyes that night she was sure there would be a way. 

As it happened, the moment she was alone the next day he sought her out. Causually, he asked her what she prayed for. She said a child. He said he knew a bit about what it took to get one of those and it wasn’t prayer. Then there was nothing else to say as he lifted her skirts and she hid her face, hoping this courtyard was more private than she thought. But she had no more time for thinking when tongue found her spot and the ruined side of his lips started to _tickle_ . It was more intense than she’d ever imagined. She tried to move, but he held her hips. She wanted to cry out but she knew she couldn’t. Somehow that made it all the better. And then she felt herself cringing and shaking with the white hot heat of it and she buried her face in his shoulder, relieved. 

Before she could say anything else he kissed her, for true this time, and was pulling his member out. She was ready now and it felt good as he pushed. Not just okay, but good all on it’s own. His hands were in her bodice, circling her nipples with his fingers and his tongue like he had circled her down below and he kissed her neck as he quickened his thrusts. 

When they were done they sat chastly apart and he asked her again what she had prayed for. 

“A way out.”

“‘spose you’ll be thinking that’s me now. That I’m to stay with you, and slay your enemies like some proper Lady’s champion.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

“Well, who am I supposed to kill for you, Sansa? Your husband?”

She felt so light to hear him say that name, she could sing.

“You could kill him, but I’m content to leave him to his mistresses. No, the problem I need you to take care of for me is a good deal _littler._ ”


End file.
